Child of Ours
by Naptime Ace
Summary: A very long time ago, the world burst into existence... The Observants have found that they can't quite do all that they want as Timekeepers, so they turn to arcane means to find someone who can wield the power they cannot.


A very long time ago the world burst into existence.

Along with the world came the creation of time and with the creation of time came those which were made to Observe it and the world. They were made to protect and Watch Over the world as days and weeks and months began to form. Time, for them, spun off its axis and became non-linear just as it stretched out and normalized for everyone else. They would watch the other beings of the planet through odd pockets and bursts of misplaced time. They came to want to protect these beings with a fierce sort of care, wanting to protect them from themselves and everything else as they saw ahead and behind.

The Observants, as they came to be called, soon found time to be something they had to control and restrict so the other beings on the planet could survive peacefully. It was a hard and heavy job, taking serious amounts of divided concentration. They had to learn to Observe everything, everywhere, all at once, all the time.

And human beings, ghosts, animals, and plants, as we all know, could get up to quite a bit in quite a short amount of time.

The Observants grew weak with their care and duty. It was exhausting work to care for the entirety of the world.

Over time, in their own strange pocket of linearity, the Observants discovered their one true weakness. It came with the first and largest disaster to strike the earth, a meteor that rocked both the earth and the Observants, who found themselves helpless as they could do nothing but Watch the destruction reign down. Their one true weakness… was that they could not interfere.

Holding the time stream steady and making sure everything progressed as it should… Took too much power for them to do anything but watch and despair.

It was their fate to do nothing, to only watch, and to become… Observants.

It would only be later that they would have a meeting, a very important, very grave meeting, where they would make a decision that would change _everything_.

It was dark and tense within the tall clock tower where all the Observants resided, all of them gathering and whispering in a furious crowd in the Great Meeting Room. They crowded and grumbled and shifted around in a restless mass until the large purple oak doors slammed shut with a ringing finality. All of the Observants had gathered and the meeting could start.

"Whispers have reached us all," a single Observant stepped out above the rest, authority ringing in his voice. He went by number one, the first, the leader.

"We have called this meeting to address them," the second stepped forward and continued for the first.

"Who is the origin of the rumor?" the first asked of the crowd.

An Observant bowed their head and stepped forward, nervous hands twisting their robes between their fingers. "I did, sir," said number forty-three with a tremble in their voice.

"Explain," the second demanded, her tone as sharp as ice.

"I-," forty-three stuttered, gathering their thoughts and nerve, "I-I f-found a book. It- has a spell."

Murmuring rustled out amongst the gathered again, everyone shifting and whispering and pondering over the possibilities. Was it true? Could it be possible? Would they actually achieve what they've wanted for so long?

The first slammed a gavel against a plate of wood, startling the room into silence again, "Explain _further_."

"If we combine our power," forty-three said very softly, "we can make a being more powerful than ourselves. A being that could, possibly, actually alter the course of time where we cannot."

The room burst into an uproar, whispers furiously bouncing off the stone walls as arguments and debates rang out through the chamber and the usually calm Observants twisted and turned in a frenzy of theories.

This time it was the second who snatched the gavel up and slammed it against the wood, "CALM DOWN, ALL OF YOU! THERE IS MORE TO DISCUSS!"

"What do you mean by possibly?" the first asked with a drawn and cautious tone, his deep voice seeming weary.

"We could fail," forty-three trembled as they spoke, the weight of their words bearing down on them and all of the others, "We could fail and destroy ourselves in the process."

A heavy tension fell across the room. Everyone knew the question now would be to either take the risk or abandon it entirely. They would not discuss this a second time.

"I want to do it," the thirty-second Observant stepped forward, her voice high and sharp, "I am willing to take that risk."

"It must be unanimous," first stated in a dark growl, "We cannot risk it if all of us aren't completely willing to take it."

"I am willing," number fourteen said as they stepped forward, head held high even as their fingers twisted in fear behind their back.

"I am also willing," number twenty-seven said as he stood tall beside fourteen, resting a calming hand on their shoulder.

"I am willing," more voices rang out as one by one every single Observant cast in their vote. It was rare for such uniformity to be had by every single one, but none of them wanted to throw away the once chance they might have at actually making a difference in the world they held so dear.

It was left to the first and second and forty-third. Forty-three, however timid they usually were, stood straight as they gave their word in a voice as strong as steel, "I am willing."

"I am willing," the second said with a decisive nod.

"Very well," the first said somberly. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the final verdict. "I am willing."

And so the decision was made.

And so the being, the Master of Time, would soon come to be.

The preparations were nearly complete. Excited murmurs and rustlings filled the small ceremony chamber as nearly all forty-eight Observants pilled in and gathered, their shadows casting dark and thin across the stone walls. A thick crack of thunder echoed over all the smaller sounds and brought them all to a shuddering silence.

It was time.

One by one they began to link hands, joining together and gathering their power, the air around them crackling with it and bouncing off the stones. Ribbons of vibrant purple ricocheted above their heads before crashing down into the center of the circle they've created. The tower trembled and energy swirled in lilac clouds.

The first Observant began to chant, ancient arcane mutterings twisted up and filled the room with magic, sparking dangerously with the temporal energy already swirling overhead.

The soft sound of clockwork ticking grew louder and faster as the chanting continued and grew stronger with more and more Observants joining in.

Thunder rumbled, lightning energy flashed, the chanting gained speed, the ticking escalated to a fever pitch, and the lavender clouds all finally coalesced with a _BANG_ before everything settled into silence again.

And a cry rang out.

They did it! It worked!

The Observants collectively heaved a sigh of relief, shaking from the aftershocks of their power leaving them all at once.

With shaky limbs they gathered to the center, leaning on each other for support as curious eyes searched for their newest creation.

A baby. Swaddled in a blanket of soft purple lay sniffling on the cold stone floor of the ceremony room. He had a head full of thick black hair and tiny elfin ears, his cries sounded small and gentle. None of the Observants moved, too in awe of the small child that would grow to have the power they did not. They hadn't expected a babe but they were exuberant with cheer nonetheless. It would take longer for the child to use his power, that was certain, but what was a bit more time to immortal beings?

Forty-three was the first to step forward, scooping up the child with delicate care. The sound of ticking intensified just slightly and the babe whimpered as he snuggled closer to the new source of warmth.

"Clockwork," they whispered, "That would be a fine name for you."

The first stepped forward. "We must mark him now," he said gravely.

"Yes," forty-three whispered.

The second joined them, "We must give him the power. His purpose," she said sharply.

"Yes," forty-three whispered.

"Begin the chant," the first ordered, raising a clawed finger to the air.

A different sort of chant from before rang out, deeper and darker and more twisted. It sounded harsh and unforgiving as they all shouted at once, growing again in volume as time went on. Growing and growing in power.

Forty-three was the only one to whisper.

Red mist surrounded the first's finger, becoming denser and denser and brighter and brighter. At the moment it began to glint like a steely metal the chant reached a climax and the first thrust a shaky hand to claw at the babe's face.

The child screamed as the deep red scar marked him for eternity. He cried as the light flashed and consumed him before fading out. His tears were soothed by forty-three, rocking him and hushing him like any parent might.

The Observants collapsed again. Success! They'd done it!

Then the babe stopped crying.

Then the babe stopped _breathing_.

His lungs were far too weak.

"No," forty-three whispered.

They clutched at the cloth covering the child, sobs already forcing their midsection to hunch and distort as they heaved in gasping breaths. "No!"

"We failed," the second said softly, her voice carrying to the others, causing them all to still in shock.

"The child is dead," the first said with a grim monotone.

Number forty-three was devastated and they didn't quite know why. Was it all the hard work they'd put into creating the child? The fact that they'd never have another chance to create a being that could hold this power? Was it the way that tiny little fist had clung so tightly to their robes? Perhaps it was all three reasons and more. Either way they felt the loss deep within them.

Their failure hit all of the Observants like a heavy blow.

Then a cry rang out again.

Forty-three gasped as they held out the child in their arms and watched in shock as he began to cry again. His hair turned as white as clouds, his skin turned as blue as the sky, and his eyes opened to reveal them to be as red as the ripest cherry.

He'd died and come back as a ghost. Now an ethereal spirit, capable of many more things than he might have as a human. The Observants all around watched with a rising happiness as the babe took in his new surrounding with curious red eyes.

"You returned to me," forty-three murmured to the child with a strained sort of smile, "to us."

The child cooed back, already showing an exponential amount of growth in the minutes since his "rebirth" of sorts.

"We'll need to relocate," the first muttered to himself, already planning ahead as a weight seemed to be lifted from his shoulders.

"The Ghost Zone would be best for the child," the second suggested, weakly leaning against fifteen.

"That'll do," the first confirmed before releasing a heavy sigh of relief.

And the sound of clockwork ticked on above them all.

Thusly, he would officially be named Clockwork, and he would have the power that the Observants had not. He would be able to control and manipulate the time stream. _He_ would be able to interfere where they could not.

And they would raise him as their own.

BONUS:

Number forty-three did not know how to take care of children.

Point in fact, number forty-three had never ever taken care of a child ever before.

And yet, here they were, with this tiny squirming bundle of baby. They had been given the main duty of taking care of the child and it frazzled their nerves a bit. Yes, the other Observants would take turns watching over the babe but everyone was still very busy keeping hold over the time stream and since the child had formed this strange attachment to forty-three they had all decided that forty-three be the one to mainly take care of him.

None of them really had any idea how to take care of children. They hadn't exactly _planned_ for the all-powerful being they were supposed to create to be a _baby_ of all things. Especially a ghostly one at that, which seemed to make everything all the more harder. Or maybe it was easier? It was hard to tell. Mostly since the child would grow older and older every few hours.

It had been a month since the ceremony that created him and already the young Clockwork was waddling around on his tiny little legs and giggling excitedly at every single thing.

He was a mischief maker, running about the tower and getting into every little thing, only squealing in glee when a passing Observant picked him up and brought him back to a safer space. It has hard for any of the Observants to stay frustrated with the child, though, when he'd smile up at them all and melt their approximation of hearts. He'd already endeared himself to them all with the short time he'd been with them.

Number forty-three heaved a beleaguered sigh as they rocked the near-to-sleeping baby gently in their arms. Young Clockwork cooed softly and copied his "parent's" heavy sigh, ever so slowly and reluctantly dropping into the world of ghostly dreams.

Forty-three hummed quietly to the child as they looked out the window of the Nursery Room towards the deep purple expanse of the Ghost Zone's void.

Oh, what a hectic month it's been.

They looked back down at the now blissfully sleeping baby and smiled softly.

But, oh, how it was worth it.


End file.
